


I Could Turn It To What I Like

by alexenglish



Series: Roman Candle Hearts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Childhood Friends, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Hand Jobs, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Queer Themes, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s been with them both so many times, but having them together like this makes him feel like it’s the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Turn It To What I Like

**Author's Note:**

> A whole mess of porn for [McHaleinski week](http://mchaleinskievents.tumblr.com/post/145174111204/mchaleinski-week-2016-is-fast-approaching-so). The first part has good background on the boys relationship dynamics, but it necessary if you're just here for the porn. 
> 
> In this Derek is demisexual, Scott is aromantic, Stiles is both allosexual and alloromantic.
> 
> Unbeta'd because I'm an impatient piece of trash. Enjoy *blows kiss*

Derek tries not to be nervous when he goes to pick Scott up from the airport. There’s always that subtle anxiety that things will be different, that their dynamic will have changed while they’ve been away from each other. It doesn’t matter that their dynamic has been well established for _years_. He doesn’t know what he would do if things did change between them, it’s been a part of _them_ for so long.

There’s nothing to worry about, though, there never is. The minute Scott sees him, he drops his bags and runs full tilt at Derek, hopping up to wrap his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek catches his thighs, hands sliding over his ass, as Scott slots their mouths together, tongue licking in immediately.

Derek laughs into the kiss, holding Scott tight until Scott drops his weight and unwinds his legs. It takes a few more long kisses before he decides he’s had enough. Derek’s lips are still tingling as Scott skips back for his luggage, dragging it behind him and giving Derek a bright smile.

“God, I missed you,” Scott says, rubbing his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. Derek can’t help the way his hand automatically goes to the back of Scott’s neck, gripping loosely as they walk towards the elevators. It’s nice to touch him again, settles something in Derek that he didn’t realize was unsettled.

He knows from an outside view, they look like a happily reunited couple. The way Scott jumped into his arms, both of their excited blushes. It’s hard to articulate what they _do_ have. A relationship grown from youth, from experimentation, settled into something close to a second skin.

There was a point in time where Derek was in love with Scott like Stiles is in love with Scott. In that all consuming way, the way that throbs and itches like a splinter under the skin. It lessened in time, from an ache to a whisper, and now it’s different. He wouldn’t call it platonic, can’t; in his experience, his sexuality hasn’t allowed that. It’s just a capitalized feeling, a Relationship, weighed and important but nothing that’s definable by romantic labels. It’s not something he understands fully, just a smash of them, DerekandScott.

Tumbling into their Relationship was unpredictable. Derek hadn’t really dealt with sexual attraction before. The teenage hormones and processes were all there; the urge to get off, the wet dreams, but there was no desire to do it with _others_. Until there was. Until Scott and Derek were hanging out one night without Stiles. Movies, games, everything that they usually did. The light of the television was shining on Scott’s face, outlining his profile, reflecting in his dark eyes, and something just clicked into place for Derek.

It was the strangest thing he had ever felt, he still doesn’t really _get_ it -- what defined his attraction in that moment, all he knows is that it happened. It didn’t take long for him to approach Scott about it, because it was new and he was a teenager and he _wanted_ _Scott_.

They didn’t have all the pieces -- this was before they knew terms like ‘demisexual’ and ‘aromantic’; at that time, they barely knew what ‘pansexual’ meant -- but they dove in anyway. Once Scott knew that _Derek_ \-- “with the smile and muscles, everyone’s fucking wet dream” -- wanted to bone him, he wasn’t going to be stopped.

The first time, they were nervous and quiet and awkward. It was something Scott had done with Stiles, but Derek hadn’t done with anyone. Scott was tender in a way that was almost frightening, palming Derek’s dick and kissing him softly. That first time was unforgettable, pressed together in Scott’s bed, too warm in their body heat. Scott pulled delicious noises out of Derek, made him come quick and satisfying. He showed Derek how to touch him, asked for his hand but didn’t protest when Derek used his mouth.

It didn’t take long for them to learn each other inside and out, backwards and forwards.

Which is why Derek knows that the way Scott’s clinging to him means that he wants to fuck. There are two other people across from them in the elevator, so Derek can’t really ask what Scott’s hand is doing in his back pocket. Besides groping his ass, of course. He can’t ask what the true intention of the action is until they stumble out into the parking garage.

“What’s up with you?” Derek asks, arching an eyebrow at Scott. He’s still hanging off Derek, hand still firmly rooted in Derek’s back pocket.

“So much,” Scott says, with a small groan, like he’s suffering. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Derek says, with a roll of his eyes. A few months away from each other doesn’t really _justify_ Scott trying to hump his leg in an elevator, but Derek figures he was lonely and doesn’t tease him about it.

“Did you bring the Toyota?” Scott asks, with a grin, mischief tucked in the corner. It’s an innocent kind of mischief, but there’s nothing innocent about Scott, not really.

Derek did bring the Toyota, only because he let Stiles take the Camaro and Derek refuses to drive the Jeep. Scott takes his silence as an affirmation, grin going just a little wider. There’s no doubt where his head's at, and Derek’s suddenly thankful that he has a corner spot, walled in and a little more private than other spots.

The window tint on the Toyota is expensive and dark, but better safe than sorry.

“Seriously?” Derek asks. “Car sex?”

Scott doesn’t answer, all he does is smile at Derek one more time before opening the liftgate and dropping his bags in the trunk. Instead of going to the passenger door like a normal person, he opens the door to the backseat and slides in, patting the space next to him.

“If you want me to beg, I will,” Scott says, quickly. “Please, please, please fuck me in the back seat of this horrendous SUV.”

“Insulting my vehicle doesn’t earn you favors,” Derek says, but he climbs into the back anyway, slamming the door shut behind him. They’ve done this enough times that he thinks to fold the passenger seat forward as Scott toes off his shoes and pushes off his pants, leaving him in a pair of tiny red briefs that do nothing to hide his growing hard on.

It takes two seconds for Scott to climb onto his lap and kiss him roughly, barely letting Derek settle into the seat.

It’s ravenous and Derek returns it with everything he has, lets Scott demand action with his lips and tongue. He fists his hands in Scott’s shirt and skates his nails over the smooth skin of his lower back, digging in to draw a groan out of Scott’s throat. The warm heat of Scott’s body is welcoming as Derek thrusts up against him, already achingly hard just from they way they mold together.

“Oh god, I missed you,” Scott says, breathless already. His eyes crinkle into half moons, cheeks ruddy and gorgeous.

“Fuck, Scott,” Derek says, instead of telling Scott that he missed him so much some days it feels like there’s a crater in his chest. Scott grins and rocks down on the line of his dick before he pulls back to pop the buttons open on Derek’s pants and tug them down.

“They need to come off,” Scott says, as he pulls. They contort so that Derek can get them out from under his ass. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Derek replies again. Scott’s mouth swallows up the words while he gets a hand around Derek’s dick and jerks him dry, just a slide of his calloused palm on Derek’s hot skin. Derek thrusts into his fist, nudging up desperately.

“ _Scott_.”

“I’ve been thinking about fucking whoever picked me up for weeks,” Scott says, pressing kisses to Derek’s jaw. If Derek is downright pleased that he was the one to pick Scott up instead of Stiles, no one has to know. The smirk on his face is definitely a little smug. His hands trail Scott’s sides, grip his ass, his hips. “I’ve been so fucking horny.”

“That happens when you go from fucking two people to fucking none, all in the name of higher education.”

Derek’s not bitter. He swears.

Scott pouts at him and Derek presses apologies into his skin with his lips, covering Scott’s face and neck while he tries to palm Scott’s dick. The angle is weird, but he manages to grab it, at least, making Scott groan and release Derek’s dick like he can’t remember what to do with his hands. His eyes flutter closed, and Derek uses the opportunity to shove Scott’s hips back so he can drag Scott’s briefs down and free his cock.

“Derek, please,” he whines, and Derek can’t bear to tease him, so he licks his hand sloppily and grips Scott’s dick, jerking him off.

“I’m going to come so fast,” Scott whimpers, trying to thrust up into the circle of Derek’s fist. It’s not working, but he’s still moaning like he has all the friction he needs. “God, I missed you. I missed your hands, your mouth.”

Derek grunts in acknowledgement and speeds up his hand, sucking hickies into Scott’s neck. A satisfied feeling curls in his stomach when he pulls back looks at Scott’s purpling skin. Scott’s loud, nails biting into the skin of Derek’s neck, fingers dipping under his collar to scratch at his shoulders.

It’s overwhelming, having Scott all around him again. Scott’s hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth, solid weight on his lap.

That phantom ache of emotion is coming back as Derek pulls Scott in close, sacrificing the angle so they’re pressed together fully. Derek kisses him hard, sneaking his free hand down the back of his briefs, fingers caressing Scott’s crack. He presses against Scott’s rim, sinking his fingertip in, a barely there pressure that has Scott swearing.

“Gunna come?” Derek asks, all too aware that they’re still in public, that it’s just a little too stifling in the cab, and they need to get home eventually. Scott doesn’t say anything, just nods fiercely, kissing Derek harder, panting into his mouth.

It takes half a dozen strokes for Scott to throw his head back and groan, thighs squeezing tight as he comes over Derek’s fist, thick and warm. They kiss hard, and Derek can’t help but thrust against the warm heat of Scot’s body. Scott whines into Derek’s shoulder, nails digging into his biceps.

“I hate refractory periods,” he pouts, moving back so he’s not sitting on Derek’s dick anymore. He contorts and slips onto the floor. The whole thing looks uncomfortable, but Derek stops caring once Scott swallows him down.

It’s painfully slow. Scott looks up at Derek through his lashes, keeping his eyes glued to Derek’s as he swirls his tongue around the head of Derek’s dick. He licks and kisses over Derek’s cock, taking his sweet time with it.

“Scott,” Derek says, low and rough. It’s not a whine, but it’s close enough that Scott smirk around his cock before taking him down to the root. Scott’s mouth is lush and wet and hot. Derek can’t help the little stutters his hips make, trying to fuck up into it for more friction.

Scott doesn’t seem to mind, eyes slipping shut when Derek’s dick slides a little too far back, gagging him. Derek can feel the back of his throat flutter around the head of Derek’s cock and he groans loudly, hand going to Scott’s hair to pull while Scott blows him.

Scott’s slow, but thorough. He has Derek squirming and whimpering, sweat prickling the back of his neck and chest. Scott finally takes pity and speeds up, fisting what can’t fit in his mouth. That’s all it takes; Scott’s mouth and hand and the look in his eye when he realizes Derek’s going to come.

“Oh man,” Scott says, panting against Derek’s thigh after Derek comes. Every one of Derek’s nerves is tingling, excited, hot. “God, I missed that.”

“A dick in your mouth?” Derek asks, chuckling. Eventually he will get around to teasing Scott about how much he keeps saying he missed Derek. Even if it’s just for his dick. He lets Scott have a second, then picks him up by his armpits and hauls him close, giving him another long kiss. Derek missed him too, but he doesn’t need to say it nearly as much. Hopefully, Scott knows.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Scott says, with a grin that’s sweet and cheeky. Derek doesn’t know how he pulls that off. Going from absolute hornball to Prince Charming, but it’s endearing. Scott presses another soft kiss to Derek’s lips before falling into the seat next to him and grabbing his pants. He shimmies them on and arches to get them over his hips. Derek copies him, buttoning himself up. “I’m going to get all my orgasms in this week. Enough to last me a month.”

“You mean a day,” Derek snorts, hopping out of the car to walk around to the driver’s side. Scott doesn’t hesitate to climb through the center console to drop down into shotgun. Derek turns the key, letting the engine rumble, and watches Scott.

His bottom lip disappears between his teeth as he worries it. There’s tension in the lines of his body that definitely shouldn’t be there after orgasms. Their eyes meet, Scott blinks at him.

“What?”

“You seem nervous,” Derek comments, shrugging and throwing the Toyota into reverse. Scott doesn’t say anything at first, tugging his phone out of his pocket and tapping the screen with his short nails. The noise rattles around Derek’s head as he waits.

“Just thinking,” Scott says, tipping his head back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut. The look on his face is soft, but it seems sad. Derek doesn’t like that look. It’s hard not to pry, but he knows from experience that’s not the way to approach Scott. He has to internalize all of his thoughts first, process them. After that, he’ll talk about it, but it takes awhile. Not like Stiles, who will cave the second you start poking at him hard enough.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Derek says, instead of asking. That makes Scott snort, happiness coloring his face again.

They’re silent for most of the drive. There’s no catching up to do; they text practically every second of the day, Skype constantly. There’s a group message with Derek, Scott, and Stiles that they use to tell each other about their day, keep each other updated. They talk about Scott’s flight a little, but not much of anything after that.

The silence is comfortable, familiar. The difference between Scott and Stiles is that Stiles can’t stop talking, needs the noise. Silence isn’t an option around Stiles. He likes music and voices, even when he’s overstimulated and cranky. With Scott, Derek gets the silences, the quiet. The contrast has always been his favorite thing, getting to seek out which stimulus he was in the mood for.

The overexposure to Stiles’ energy makes Scott’s presence feel like a balm, soothing Derek over until he’s fresh again. The feeling reminds him how well they work together, all three of them balancing each other perfectly, and Derek feels content down to his bones.

The ride to the apartment is quick. Derek doesn’t hesitate to haul Scott’s stuff into his room and dumps it with the pile of Stiles’ things that has been slowly accumulating. More often than not, Stiles stays over, but it was like that before they started dating, too. Forever codependent. It’s a wonder that Stiles hasn’t insisted on moving in already. It’s not like Derek would have stopped him. They might have started fucking sooner, if that was the case.

“Wanna take a shower with me?” Scott asks, sidestepping Derek to poke around his room a little bit. There’s a picture of the three of them when they were teenagers on the dresser, Scott smiles when he sees it, fingers trailing over the frame. So much of what Derek owns contains memories of all of them. It’s so deeply embedded in everything, it doesn’t matter that Scott’s never been to this particular apartment. The space settles around Scott anyway, welcomes him like he’s home.

“Will you actually shower?” Derek asks, pulling out two towels. It’s hard to fathom saying ‘no’ to Scott. He doesn’t know if he can.

“Of course,” Scott says.

Of course, he’s lying, because once they’re naked, all he wants to do is hump Derek, grinding against his thigh as they kiss, skin slippery with water. Derek hauls him up against the shower wall and gets his hand around his cock, relishing the way he groans Derek’s name while Derek gets him off.

It’s easy to making him come, easier than it was in the car even. He’s so keyed up, ready to pop off at every rough tug of Derek’s hand. All he says is Derek’s name over and over, whining and scrambling against the wet tile in a way that nearly makes Derek fall. His blunt nails dig into Derek’s shoulders as he arches and moans.

“Derek, D, babe,” Scott says, whimpering when he comes. Derek releases him to lick the come from his fingers, watching the heavy rise and fall of Scott’s chest as he gets himself together. There’s a wobble to his legs, but it only takes a second for him to steady himself, then he’s sucking Derek’s fingers into his mouth, chasing the taste of his own come as his free hand tugs Derek’s dick.

The water goes cold while Derek’s cock is in Scott’s mouth, but Scott sucks him off anyway, hands cupping Derek’s ass, playing along his crack. When they stumble out, they’re both shivering. Scott pushes them into bed without clothes and pulls Derek close, nosing into his neck as Derek settles the blanket over them. They both fall asleep, waiting for Stiles.

 

 

 

It’s dark when Derek wakes up to the apartment door opening. Stiles’ footsteps are heavy as he all but runs to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway to watch them. If Derek didn’t know Stiles, he would never guess that Stiles was the type to hesitate at the threshold, unsure of how to approach his best friend and boyfriend in bed.

Stiles’ insecurities are nothing new though. They’ve driven his every inaction since Derek has known him. It what made Derek take the initiative with their relationship, knowing Stiles would rather keep his feelings to himself than risk rejection. The thought makes Derek smile, something warm and private that he directs at Stiles.

Their eyes catch and Stiles’ widen, like he’s surprised, but he smiles back and exchanges a relieved look with Derek. And Derek gets that, he’s happy to have Scott back, too.

It takes some nudging for Scott to wake up. He blinks lazily at the ceiling a couple of times before sitting up and stretching, mouth going wide in a yawn, blankets pooling around his waist. Stiles flicks on the light and rocks forward, coming towards them finally.

When Scott’s yawn is over, the smile he gives Stiles is a thousand watts. The reaction is instantaneous; Derek can see Stiles soften all over, tension going out of him.

“Hey,” he says, low and private. Derek watches anyway. That’s what they all do. They watch each other. Love and appreciate each other in their own ways.

“Hey,” Scott says, leaning forward to give Stiles a kiss on the mouth.

Stiles has always been obvious in his affection; Derek’s sure he doesn’t realize it’s happening. The way his eyes flutter when their lips meet, the way he curls towards Scott. When they part, his eyes are affectionate, warm.

In high school, Derek always assumed that Scott and Stiles were going to have that white picket fence type of ending. They were always One True Love material, Derek assumed that the sex thing with Scott would eventually end when Stiles and Scott decided to get serious. They had been attached at the hip for longer than Derek had known either of them, it was the only logical conclusion.

Except, it didn’t happen like that. Not even close.

Derek found Scott in his room on a Sunday night, hands clenched into fists, tears in his eyes. They had always been close, the ones to gravitate towards each other for more emotional conversations. Stiles was less empathetic than the both of them, quick to reaction. He wasn’t as easy to confide in then as he is now.

“Stiles told me he loves me,” Scott said, voice thick with sorrow. Unfortunately, this was after Derek fell in love with Scott; after he realized that Scott was more than just a friend he fucked. Derek’s stomach dropped when he heard those words, chest aching.

“What did you tell him?” Derek asked, ignoring his own reactions. There was obviously something wrong, some reason why Scott was in his room and not with Stiles. That was where he thought Scott should be, not sitting on his bed looking miserable.

“I didn’t --” Scott cleared his throat. “I asked him for some time. To think.”

“What do you need to think about?” Derek asked, gently, sitting next to him. Not pressed together, he didn’t want to box Scott in. Afraid that if he did, Scott wouldn’t talk to him.

“I don’t -- I mean I _do_. I love Stiles, but not like that.”

The relief Derek felt was dizzying, shame following quickly on its heels. At the time, he was jealous of Scott and Stiles’ relationship, how close they were. This was before they all settled into their arrangement, before navigating their sexual relationships was natural and devoid of any kind of insecurity. Derek was always insecure in the early days, unsure of where he fit with them.

“I don’t love anyone like that.”

Derek’s stomach plummeted again.

“I don’t know what that feels like,” Scott stared at his lap, hands curling tightly. His lashes were thick and wet with unshed tears. “I thought it would happen. That I would at least get a crush on someone. It just doesn’t happen.”

“You haven’t had a crush on anyone?” Derek asked, confused, mind whirling. Maybe he didn’t want to admit to not loving Stiles _or_ Derek, despite the gentle sex and easy kisses. That’s not something he owed either of them, but Scott was too nice sometimes, too placating.

“I don’t know?” Scott said, finally looking at Derek. The frown on his face was pure confusion, eyes glassy from trying to hold everything in. “I don’t know what it feels like. Everyone just feels the same…” His breath hitched in his throat, that tell-tale sound that always happened before he cried.

“It’s okay,” Derek said, laying his hand over Scott’s, trying to be reassuring even though he had no idea what the hell Scott meant. He couldn’t stand the way the corners of Scott’s mouth pulled down, mouth wobbling. “There has to be a reason. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you.”

Even then, Derek knew how Scott would find a way to blame himself, think he was dysfunctional. It took awhile to find the word that defined him. _Aromantic_. Scott told them he didn’t mind romance, he liked kissing and cuddling and sex and soft praise and _saying_ ‘I love you’, but he didn’t feel any way about it besides that it was _nice_. Nice the same way a cool drink is nice, or a hot shower is nice.

Assuming the identity settled something in Scott, but unsettled something in Stiles. Not that he ever seemed mad, only upset, let himself drift away from them. Presumably, while he was figuring out his own feelings, but he never actually told him. It hurt Scott, Derek could tell, but Scott never said anything about it, kept his smile wide for Stiles whenever he was around.

When they finally got over the weirdness, Stiles was looking at Derek the same way he looked at Scott. With that open observation, the curiosity. There was no telling when _that_ happened, and Derek knew what it meant, but didn’t entertain it. After Scott’s revelation, Derek started searching for his own explanation for his seemingly selective sexuality and found his answers. Being demi meant that it didn’t matter how Stiles looked at him back then, he hadn’t felt it.

Derek’s glad they got close enough to have what they have now. Love like a splinter, an incurable itch that Derek doesn’t want scratched. All he wants is Stiles with him. Maybe forever. It’s scary, but he thinks he can do it.

Now, with Scott, the three of them have the opportunity to settle into a rhythm. They’ve managed the long distance thing almost exactly like it was before he and Stiles got together. There are some hiccups, but their balance only ever gets upset when the three of them have to negotiate their time with each other. Between being Scott’s long distance emotional support and figuring out the dynamics of his and Stiles’ relationship, _sometimes_ it feels like he’s been spread thin.

With them both in his room, on his bed, everything snaps back into place. He has this warm, content feeling in his chest when he watches them kiss. Scott keeps Stiles close with his hand on his shirt front, but Stiles isn’t going anywhere. The look on his face is almost _too_ vulnerable, conveying exactly how much he missed Scott.

Eventually Scott pushes Stiles off of him and Stiles rolls over to Derek, slotting their bodies together. It’s only a recently perfected move, but Derek melts into it, chest swelling as his nips at Stiles’ warm lips. Something about the fact that Scott kissed them, and now Derek is getting to kiss them feels good in a way Derek can’t explain.

“Take a shower so we can fuck,” Scott says. He’s on his side, watching them with a soft smile on his face. It’s affectionate, opening adoring. Derek can’t help the way he grins over Stiles’ shoulder at Scott in response.

“What you don’t want my stinky ass all over you?” Stiles snarks.

“I’m not opposed, but being clean is important,” Scott says, sagely. Stiles raises one dubious eyebrow, but Scott doesn’t say anything. They all exchange looks until Stiles shrugs, and wiggles away from Derek to the foot of the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’m showering,” Stiles says, peeling his shirt off. The muscles of his back flex and stretch attractively under his pale skin. Both Derek and Scott watch as he strips, tossing his clothes in the general direction of Derek’s laundry basket. His ass bounces as he disappears into the bathroom.

When Derek looks at Scott, he’s grinning.

“I missed you guys,” he says, with a soft sigh, rolling over to Derek like a puppy, flopping onto him.

“We missed you too,” Derek says, fingers tracing his collar, over his sternum. It feels like the thousandth time they’ve exchanged the words. It’s never any less true, but it’s worrying Derek as he thinks about Scott’s sad expression in the car. Maybe he’s lonely. He doesn’t want Scott to be lonely.

Scott distracts him by wiggling and knocking their legs together. There’s a manic energy about him that Derek isn’t used to. Maybe it’s just pent up sexual frustration.

“You should help me,” Scott says, squirming away. He slides to the end of the bed and leaps up, running to his bag. When he comes back, he drops a bottle of lube next to Derek, crawling up his body to give him a kiss. The excitement is practically palpable. Scott straddles one of Derek’s thighs. He’s already half hard as he rocks his body down, groaning softly.

“What am I helping you with?” Derek asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows. He’s already hot all over from the way their skin feels when it touches, getting hard between them as Scott’s hands drift over his torso. Derek reaches down and cups Scott’s ass, just because he can, bringing them flush.

“You should open me up,” Scott says, pressing a couple of kisses to Derek’s cheek, sucking on his earlobe. Derek’s knees go watery. “So I’m ready when Stiles gets out.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, voice low. “Want to be stretched open so he can just slide into you when he gets out of the shower?”

“Fuck yeah,” Scott says, with a happy little sigh. Probably thinking about Stiles fucking him, draped over his back while Scott straddles Derek. That sounds amazing.

“Okay, yeah,” Derek says, quickly.

“Great,” Scott says, practically shoving the lube at Derek. He rearranges his limbs so he’s straddling Derek’s hips, spreading his legs wide. His cock bobs between them, head shining with precome, sticky. Derek wants to get his mouth on him, feel the weight of Scott on his tongue, but he’ll wait. They have time.

Derek takes a moment to appreciate the way his hand spans nearly the whole back portion of Scott’s thigh. He feels so delicate in Derek’s grip, even though he’s sturdy and solid. The lube slides into Derek’s hand, pooling in his palm. He rubs it over his fingers and leans over Scott’s body to kiss him, circling his rim as they kiss. Scott gasps as his finger sinks in, nails digging into Derek’s back.

“Relax,” Derek says, nipping at Scott’s bottom lip. Scott whimpers and nods, exhaling in a rush. Some of the tension disappears from his body, enough that Derek can move his finger, fuck it in and out of Scott’s body.

“I love how big your fingers are,” Scott gasps, but his body arches into Derek’s anyway, hips circling as Derek's hand moves. It starts shallow, but Scott's body relaxes for him, making it easier.

“You good?” Derek asks, getting another finger ready. Scott whines and inhales, nodding. “You sure?”

“Yeah, go for it,” he says, exhaling as Derek pushes in. His body gives just a little easier this time. Derek keeps him at two fingers for a while, stretching him thoroughly, kissing him with determination while Scott’s hips rock down to meet his hand.

“God, it’s been too long,” Derek hears Stiles groan. He looks over Scott’s shoulder to see him leaning on the door jamb. His hair is wet from the shower, sticking up where he towelled it dry. He’s all pink and rosy, his cheeks and chest. He looks soft, pliable, but his eyes are sharp, watching the way Derek’s fingers disappear into Scott’s body.

“Way too long,” Scott whines, forehead pressing against Derek’s shoulder as he tries to grind himself back greedily. “At least you two have each other to fuck on a regular basis.”

“Well, now you have us,” Stiles says, coming up behind Scott and biting the meat of his shoulder. If Scott’s cry is anything to go by, it’s not gentle, but Scott’s dick spits precome against Derek’s stomach, so it’s not like it was _bad_.

“All the attention you could want for a whole week,” Derek agrees. The towel Stiles had around his waist is discarded on the floor, leaving Stiles as naked as Derek and Scott are, growing hard quickly.

“Probably more than you can possibly want,” Stiles says, grinning at Derek like he’s determined to make good on the threat and wants Derek to help him out. Derek won’t make any promises, but he leans over Scott’s shoulder to give Stiles a slick kiss that goes on for longer than he means it to.

“I doubt you can wear me out,” Scott growls, settling between them with a content sigh.

“That sounds like a dare,” Stiles says, very seriously. He pulls back and swats Scott’s ass hard, making Scott arch into Derek with a little cry.

“Might be,” Scott mumbles, burying his head in Derek’s neck with the pretense of hiding. In reality, he’s sucking marks into Derek’s skin, teeth sharp and heavy over Derek’s pulse. He’s still riding Derek’s fingers steadily, twitching when Derek catches his rim or changes the angle.

Derek’s been with them both so many times, but having them together like this makes him feel like it’s the first time. He’s not quite sure what’s going to come next, not sure how their dynamic will play out with the three of them.

Scott takes it slow, more often than not. He likes to climb on top and pin Derek’s arms down with a tight grip, riding him until Derek begs for something, _anything_. He likes to make it intense, scratch his nails down Derek’s chest and locking their eyes until Derek can’t help but blink away. Scott always wins that particular game, making Derek shy away because it’s just _too much_.

Stiles usually likes it quick and dirty. He can never stay still, hands and mouth everywhere. He whispers filthily in Derek’s ear, bringing him to the edge with the deep husk of his voice, the promises he makes. He fucks like he’s reckless with desire, unable to hold himself back.

The contrast of the two of them is a game of tug-of-war. Stiles pushes while Scott pulls, pulls while Scott pushes. It’s a tease that’s obviously ingrained in them, a balance that Derek doesn’t doubt has been perfected since they were teenagers.

He’s never watched them together, so he’s perfectly content with letting them make out on top of him. Scott’s head is angled back in a way that doesn’t look entirely comfortable, but he’s kissing Stiles like he’s drowning and Derek doesn’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.

Stiles’ nails leave red marks along Scott’s chest as he reaches around to scratch him, catching on Scott’s nipple, making him arch. He mouths along Scott’s shoulder, biting and sucking, leaving bruises while his eyes are locked with Derek.

There’s a smirk playing around his mouth, like he knows how much Derek is enjoying getting to watch. It’s a different kind of turned on. His own dick is painfully hard, but Derek barely notices, too invested in whether or not Stiles is going to touch Scott he way he so obviously needs to be touched.

“Please, Stiles,” Scott says, as if he was cued.

“What do you want, baby?” Stiles asks, purring. He tears his gaze away from Derek’s at last, focusing on his hand trailing down Scott’s torso instead. Scott groans as Stiles’ fingers tip-toe lower, grinding back. The movement makes Derek have to reach, still three fingers deep in Scott while they take their sweet time.

Stiles’ free hand comes up to grip Scott’s hip quickly, holding their bodies apart, mouth dropping open. The skin under his fingers is dented, white from how hard he’s holding on.

“I think you’re going to make him come if you keep doing that,” Derek comments, low and teasing. Scott smiles at him, mischief at the corners of his mouth, but Stiles is making a disgruntled face. He doesn’t correct Derek, so Derek assumes he’s right.

“That would be a tragedy,” Scott says, leaning down to kiss Derek quickly. “I want him inside me.”

“You could ask,” Stiles says, leaning forward with Scott’s body. Derek feels their weight settle on him, heavy and secure. “I am right here.”

“Will you get inside me?” Scott asks, flashing a sweet smile over his shoulder. It’s charming. Derek groans and leans up, biting at Scott’s dimple.

“My pleasure,” Stiles coos, nuzzling into Scott’s neck and swatting Derek away.

“Are you gunna fuck on top of me?” Derek asks. There isn’t a note of disappointment in his voice, though, if anything he’s breathless with anticipation.

“Of course,” Scott and Stiles say, in unison. They cackle at the way their voices sing-song together, and it settles in Derek’s blood like lightning.

They take a moment to position themselves. Scott hisses as Derek slips his fingers out, settling his hands on Scott’s thighs, uncaring of the lube coating his right. They shift so Derek’s legs are on the outside of Scott’s, spread to accommodate him and Stiles. Scott’s on all fours above him, grinning wickedly as Stiles lines up.

Derek gets to see Scott’s face as Stiles sinks into him, the small frown puckering his forehead even as his mouth goes slack. It’s a beautiful sight.

Stiles thrusts and Scott whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip. They’re gorgeous together. Scott gasps every time Stiles thrusts, weight of his body pressing Scott down so his cock brushes with Derek’s. His skin is blushing a deep red, spreading down his chest. The column of his throat is long and mouth watering when Stiles grabs his hair and tugs his head back roughly, the way Scott likes it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Derek mutters, before setting his teeth to Scott’s neck and making him whimper.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to dislodge, Stiles is rocking into Scott hard enough that it’s too difficult to coordinate the back-and-forth motion between them. Instead, Derek gropes around the bed, looking for the lube. Apparently, Stiles can read his mind. He takes one hand off Scott’s hip and pushes the bottom towards Derek, giving him a knowing look.

“Lemme --” Scott whines, as Derek’s about to dump lube over his fingers. He huffs, turning his head back towards Stiles. “Slow down, I wanna --”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, pressing his forehead to Scott’s spine as he slows his hips down to a dirty grind while Scott holds himself up with one hand. He wiggles his fingers at Derek and Derek obliges, drizzling lube onto his hands.

The first press of Scott’s finger to his entrance makes Derek moan, his own awareness of his body catching back up with him. It’s easy to ignore how keyed up he is when he’s watching Scott and Stiles fuck, but Scott’s fingers on him brings all his attention back to his aching cock. The throb of his body. The way it’s humming with need.

“Fuck, Scott,” Derek says, as Scott starts to finger him open. One finger, then two. It’s full of intent, slow but firm, like it always is with Scott. Stiles is still moving, long strokes that are making Scott bite his lip so hard the skin goes white.

“Hurry up,” Stiles grunts. He’s peering over Scott’s shoulder to watch the way Scott’s fingers disappear into Derek’s body, pupils swallowing up his irises. Stiles drags his eyes up Derek’s body and locks their gazes, smug and soft at the same. Derek knows there’s no place any of them would rather be. He loves that feeling.

“Hurrying,” Scott says, wrinkling his nose cutely. He lubes up his dick, groaning and gripping the base like he needs to remind himself not to come.

Instead of asking Derek to scoot down so Scott can push into him, both Scott and Stiles knee walk up so Scott’s closer. It’s hilarious and endearing. Derek can’t help the hiccuping giggle that escapes him, but that turns into a moan as soon as Scott sinks inside him.

“Fuck,” Scott and Derek say, at the same time, while Stiles whimpers in agreement behind Scott.

It’s hot as hell trapped under the two of them. Sweat’s pooling under Derek’s lower back, at his hairline. It’s beaded on Scott’s face and Stiles’. It’s suffocating. The smell of sex heavy in the air as Scott and Stiles start to thrust, not in sync, but at the same time.

Scott thrusts slow and steady, but Stiles is shifting back and grabbing Scott again, picking up the pace. The rhythm knocks their hips together, forces Scott to move quicker. His thrusts are shallow so he can stay in Derek while Stiles fucks him, but it’s still so good.

The drag of his dick is perfect, catching on Derek’s rim, sliding into him over and over. They can’t even kiss, Scott’s body is rocking with too much force, but they pant into each other’s mouths, overwhelmed.

The air around them is stifling, heavy with tension. Heat coils in Derek’s stomach, tighter and tighter until his lungs refuse to breathe for him. It doesn’t matter, he can’t stop the string of curses and groans long enough to catch his breath anyway. They’re _all_ cursing, saying each other’s names, being loud, too loud, but Derek could care less.

“Touch yourself,” Scott says, panting. “I can’t -- you gotta --”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek agrees. He barely remembers his dick is a _thing_ , trapped between their stomachs, aching. He wraps his hand around himself and wants to sob with how good it feels. “Shit, fuck.”

“Gunna come?” Stiles asks. He’s watching Derek, eyes darting between his cock and his face, looking excited, anticipating.

“Yeah, fuck,” Derek says, striping his dick hard and fast.

“Yeah, come for us,” Scott says. He speeds up, thrusts harder. Stiles follows his pace easily, making Scott whimper.

“Come for us, baby,” Stiles says, still watching. Both of their gazes are so intense, Derek has to screw his eyes shut. It doesn’t take long to bring him over the edge, already overstimulated from watching them, from being filled up.

He spills thick over his fingers and hears Stiles curse as he speeds up, fingers denting Scott’s hips. The whole bed shudders as he comes. Scott moans pitifully before thrusting deep and coming, too.

“Holy shit,” Stiles says, collapsing heavily onto Scott’s back. Scott’s still riding his orgasm, body lax, so he falls right on Derek’s chest, smooshed between Stiles and Derek.

They’re a sweaty, sticky mess and Derek doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. It’s way too hot under two bodies, but he doesn’t ask them to move, too content with the fact that they’re _both_ there, sharing the afterglow.

“I missed you guys,” Scott says. It’s a little more vulnerable than Derek anticipated. The sound of it makes Derek’s chest twinge in a way that he doesn’t like. Silence settles over them heavily. Derek definitely doesn’t like that. Neither does Stiles, apparently, sharing a frown with Derek before frowning at Scott.

“Hey,” Stiles says, shifting his weight so he can look at Scott properly instead of smashed against his back. Scott’s not meeting his eyes. He’s not looking at Derek either. “We’re here now.”

“I know,” Scott says, laughing thickly. “I just… It gets lonely, you know? I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too,” Derek says, completely sincere. He’ll say it as many times as Scott needs him to. It’s true. He misses Scott every second of every day. The three of them have been inseparable since Derek lost his parents. Being without Scott is difficult. It hasn’t stop being difficult since he left.

It’s like that for all of them, Derek knows, but Derek and Stiles have each other and Scott -- Derek hates thinking about Scott being _lonely_.

“We’re here now,” Stiles adds, peppering the side of Scott’s face with kisses.

“Ruined the afterglow,” Scott says, with a self-deprecating chuckle. He meets Derek’s eyes, though, which is a good sign.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Derek assures him. He leans up so he can leave playful kisses all over Scott’s face too, adding some to Stiles’ cheek for good measure.

“I love you both,” Stiles says. It’s very matter-of-fact, complete with sharp nods of his head. Derek laughs out loud, warmth filling him up.

“I love you both, too.”

That’s what it comes down to. The three of them loving each other in their owns way. All different, but so damn important.

“I love you both,” Scott says, smile soft at the corners, eyes affectionate. “Just not, you know, like _that_.”

“Scott,” Stiles and Derek groan, at the same time.

Scott’s reply is lost in giggles when they start tickling him hard enough that he rolls off the bed, limbs flailing, grabbing onto Stiles and dragging him off, too. When Derek peers over the edge, they’re already making out, bodies slotted together.

“I swear to god,” Derek mumbles, grumpily. But he’s teasing. He’s more than okay with this, with them, the three of them figuring it out.

“Well, c’mere,” Stiles says, popping up. His hair is drying in silly tuffs all over his head, skin pink and mouth bruised red. There’s still lube and sweat and come everywhere, and --

“I’m not making out with you on the floor --” Derek starts, but they shut him up by dragging him off the bed and falling on top of him in a giggling heap.

And he’s more than okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/)


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